


Omens, a Heroes/Good Omens crossover.

by Doctor Caduceus (Lemniscate)



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett, Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemniscate/pseuds/Doctor%20Caduceus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It really does explain a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omens, a Heroes/Good Omens crossover.

**Author's Note:**

> Set an indeterminate time after the Heroes volume Villains.

"On reflection, it explains a lot."

Crowley gave Aziraphale a baleful look.

"You don't say."

"No need to get snippy, dear. I clearly got the worse end of the arrangement."

"How in the hell do you figure _that,_ angel?" Crowley asked, crossing his arms. Aziraphale waved a hand and plowed on.

"I suppose it was naïve to think that wrecking the apocalypse wouldn't have repercussions."

"Should've known it was coming. I just didn't expect such a delay," Crowley sighed, ruffling his feathers. Aziraphale sighed, fussing with a pinion.

"Really does explain a lot."

"Such as?"

"The scales, for one," Aziraphale answered. Crowley shrugged. "Though it is nice to see you without sunglasses all times."

"And all your books," Crowley followed up.

"You had just as many!" Aziraphale said.

"Mine were practical."

"Bullshit," Aziraphale laughed, then clapped his hand over his mouth, stricken.

"_Very_ naughty," Crowley purred. "Love it. It explains your filial piety."

"Your bid for power, your flashy clothes," Aziraphale countered. "Really a lot of paisley."

"Though other bits were just bizarre," Crowley mused.

"Ah. The serial murder," Aziraphale said guiltily.

"And the whole 'moral compass' thing," Crowley said. "_My_ filial piety, your bid for power."

Aziraphale gave him a concerned look.

"Do you think this means I've fallen? I don't feel fallen."

"You're not fallen. I'm pretty sure I'd've gotten a note," Crowley answered. Aziraphale looked doubtful, worrying at one of his feathers. "Stop picking at them. You're not molting."

"What did it feel like when you fell?" Aziraphale asked.

"Like getting locked out of a car," Crowley replied. "On a rainy day. Without an umbrella."

Aziraphale nodded.

"It felt a bit like that, but only the bits when I was angry at you or you were angry at me."

"I seem to recall being angry at you quite a lot. That's a hell of a punishment. Strip us of our memories, make us friends, then enemies. Almost poetic."

"You think your side came up with it, don't you."

"I think heaven came up with mine and hell with yours," Crowley answered.

"I don't mind the new body at all," Aziraphale said, kicking out his long legs and glancing at his feet before looking at Crowley. "Or yours, actually, the curls are lovely and the face is-"

"Don't say angelic," Crowley interrupted. "So you fell a little, and I rose a little. I think the sex was worth it."

Aziraphale blushed crimson, a look Crowley rather liked.

"I... you- I thought we were going to pretend that didn't happen!" the angel sputtered. Crowley gave him a grin that was too bright in his dark face, eyeing Aziraphale like a brand new toy and reaching out to yank open his shirt.

"Now this," Crowley said, tracing a fingertip around the edge of Aziraphale's chest hair. "Is a delicious irony. A serial killer with an angel's name and a heart outside his chest."

Crowley leaned forward, nibbling roughly on Aziraphale's neck and discovering that the return of his memory did not mean the departure of Gabriel Gray's erotic hot spots.

"But... but I killed your father!" Aziraphale protested, voice cracking as Crowley slipped his hand into Aziraphale's trousers, going directly underneath his boxers as well in true demonic fashion.

"You know what?" Crowley said, hissing softly to himself as he got fed up with being patient and incinerated Aziraphale's clothes as well as his own.

"What?" Aziraphale replied, barely louder than the exhalation of air itself, coughing slightly at the vapor of the ashes of the fabric of their clothes.

"I'm over it," Crowley replied. The substantial eyebrows of Aziraphale's mortal coil went up.

"I suppose this outcome is particularly ineffable—"

Crowley slapped his hand over Aziraphale's mouth.

"Angel, I'm about to show you just how effable you are."


End file.
